


Standard Testing Procedure

by Riffir



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Handcuffs, I'm not sure where this came from but I'm going to expose you all to it anyways, M/M, Public Nudity, Restraints, and the award for the worst title goes to..., nearly no plot at all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-07-29
Packaged: 2017-11-10 00:10:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riffir/pseuds/Riffir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony decides to develop new handcuffs for the incredibly strong. And if he tests it out on the resident Super Soldier? Well now, that's just utilizing his resources. </p><p>Or: Tony and Steve have sex while wearing handcuffs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Idea and implementation

It’d started innocently enough, or at least as innocently as Tony Stark slapping a pair of handcuffs onto Captain America for “shits and giggles” could start. They’d just come back from debriefing at SHIELD headquarters, still psyched out by the adrenaline ride of a mission that wasn’t anywhere as intense as needed for a group of superheroes. The other Avengers had holed up in their own quarters doing whatever it was that relieved tension: in the morning Jarvis would have footage of Bruce calling Betsy and meditating with mellow jazz in the background, of Thor and his merry band of Asgardians celebrating and destroying his quarters with drunken joviality, of Clint and Coulson pushing each other into Clint’s room where “Privacy Mode” was always activated, and of Natasha destroying targets in the weight room before vanishing for a few hours up on the roof of the tower. 

They each had their own way of coping. For better or worse. Steve destroyed punching bags. Tony’s usually involved drunken inventing or doing something publicly yet socially unacceptable that would end up on C-SPAN. So when Steve strode into his workshop still wearing his dirt-streaked uniform with what could only be described as intent, Tony could only hope for some sort of action. “Heya, Cap. Time to assemble to save the world? Or is it time for another round of mall cops on ice?” He jumped up from the worktable, ready to summon Jarvis to deploy the suit.

The intense expression faltered for a moment. “What ice? It’s summertime.”

“Yeah, it’s an expression. Somewhere. Or a reference. That you obviously wouldn’t get.” Tony sighed and sank down on the tabletop, ignoring the way that the holograms shimmered around him. “No dice?”

Steve shook his head then leaned over Tony, a bit of the intensity coming back. “I thought about going down to the gym for a while, then changed my mind.”

Tony grinned, hooking his heels around the back of Steve’s thighs. “Figured you’d come beat something else instead?”

Steve lowered his mouth to Tony’s throat, nipping across his bobbing Adam’s apple. “I’m going to assume that’s a reference to sex, not to actual violence.”

“Potato, tomato,” Tony let his eyes slide shut and traced his fingers against the muscles of Steve’s shoulders. An idea was wriggling away in the back of his mind, playful and innocent and Tony began to sprawl back, lying down on the table and dragging Steve down on top of him. He reached up for an old project, one that had never actually gotten out of the planning phase but it’d been floating around his workshop for a bit now. Tony wiggled a bit, got Steve’s mouth on his own, stretched up and grasped his wrists and--

Steve looked up as the handcuffs clicked into place. He stared at the shiny metal encircling both wrists, then back down into the mischievous amusement dancing in Tony’s eyes. “You know those can’t hold me, right?”

Tony laughed, head tipped back against the table. This was much better than drunken inventing. Or ending up on national television. “Not yet, maybe,” he grinned as Steve sat back and examined the cuffs, twisting his arms in front of him, the yellow and green lights from the table reflecting off the shiny metal. “But that’s not the point.” he drew him forward again, looping Steve’s arms around his shoulders and cinching their bodies together. “The point,” he breathed into Steve’s ear, reveling in the shiver that traced it’s way through his body, “is that it’s fun.” Which was actually really important. He leaned back and searched Steve’s face. “It is fun, right? This isn’t triggery, or intimidating, or anything like that?”

Steve’s eyebrows went up. “Thanks for asking,” because he was always a polite guy like that, and he could recognize that there were people who this might not be so entertaining for, “but it’s a thin strand of metal linked together by even slimmer slivers of more metal. It’s not one of my nightmares.”

“Great,” Tony pulled him closer. “Let’s see how long they last.”

He fastened his mouth over Steve’s, tracing his tips with the tip of a tongue until Steve’s mouth opened up under his, his own tongue coming out to stroke against him. Steve wiggled his bound hands down between them, pulling zippers and pushing fabric until he can get them both free, stroking the two of them together. Tony groaned, scrabbling his hands across Steve’s chest, feeling his pecs, his nipples, his abs beneath the uniform, grabbing onto his ass and pulling them together as sharply as possible. The adrenaline buzzed between them, heavy and heady beneath Tony’s skin. And while he understood that neither of them would last long, he also knew that Steve had the refractory period of an adolescent boy discovering porn for the first time. 

Adrenaline be damned; tonight would be fun.

Steve throbbed against him. Tony gasped, bit into Steve’s collarbone and whined as he shook apart, doubled over and straining against Steve’s shoulder. A moment later, Steve came against his stomach, soaking Tony’s shirt, silent save for the shriek of metal giving against itself.

Tony could feel Steve’s breath against the side of his head, pushing his curls back from his face. He took a deep breath of his own and leaned back. Steve grinned down at him, and held up his hands. The broken chain hung down from his left wrist, the right cleanly severed at the clasp. His softening cock was still hanging out of his uniform. He looked like a mix between Tony’s own adolescent wet dreams and a tacky porn model. Which Tony could work with; hell, he could work tacky all day long. “I told you it wouldn’t hold me.”

Tony grinned and pulled him back down. “I’ll just have to make a few alterations to it sometime,” he said. 

~~~

Like all inherently bad ideas, this one also became an thought that just wouldn’t go away. Tony worked on other things, important, world saving things, naturally, but he continually came back to the idea of cuffs that even Steve Rogers, Super Soldier Extraordinaire, couldn’t break. When the other Avengers found out about it (because, naturally, sex and restraints weren’t just kept to Tony’s room, Steve’s room, the workshop, the gym, the kitchen, possibly a few closets…), Tony tried to convince them that super-cuffs (patent pending) were actually a necessary tool in the superhero arsenal.

“Think about it,” Tony argued, sitting beside a red-faced Steve who had attempted to cover them both up from the neck down with an afghan that had appeared in the main living room shortly after the bulk of the Avengers had moved in. Or possibly it was left there at some point by Pepper. Tony had no idea. “We come across super-strong bad guys all time.”

“So you want to throw them on the ground and read them their rights?” Bruce asked, a trace of color chasing it’s way up his neck. He was the only one actually having the conversation. Clint was still collapsed against the doorway, laughing his ass off. Natasha had walked right back out of the room the moment she realized what was going on, and Thor, oblivious to the idea that sex should be considered a private activity which should embarrass all unwitting onlookers, had flopped onto the couch next to Steve and was currently flipping through the channels on the television.

“Well, sure, there’s that fantasy that all little boys have about becoming a police officer,” Tony allowed, “but this is actually useful. Say we have big baddy who is capable of destroying half a city. Say we neutralize him, and junior agents take over. Say he wakes back up before they get him into those holding cells they had on the helicarrier, or whatever it is that SHIELD puts problematic children, and decides to eat a few junior agents. With a good pair of cuffs, the problem is at least minimized.” He started to stand up. The afghan fell loose, exposing bare midriff and he was pushed back down by both Steve and Bruce. “Only one, maybe two agents snacked up. That has to be a win.”

“And the best way to test that is by fucking in our living room?” Clint managed from where he’d slid down the wall to sit on the floor.

“Ah, technically? It’s my living room. But, to answer your question, you have to give the subject a reason to escape.” Tony shrugged. On the other end of the couch, Thor let out a shout of approval as he found some sort of mixed martial arts program. “You know, really test the super-strength. Otherwise, he’ll just pull half-heartedly, and then it won’t really be an adequate test.”

“See? This is the reason Stark really shouldn’t be the one overseeing human testing,” Clint heaved himself to his feet. “He’ll want to fuck the testees throughout the house.”

“First off, it’s a tower. Filled with StarkTech offices, R&D, and other profitable things. Second of all, it’s my tower. I should be allowed to fuck whomever I want, wherever I want. Third,” he hurried on as Steve pulled toward him, offense quickly overtaking embarrassment, “I don’t need to fuck multiple test subjects; I have the perfect specimen here. He’s strong enough to test my products, and active enough to keep the experiments coming.” He beamed at Steve, who looked less offended and more exasperated.

“I’m so glad we have this relationship,” he muttered and dropped his hands from where they’d been crunching the afghan up under his throat like some sort of harlequin romance virgin. 

“It is confusing, considering neither of you are drunk and you have enough back pay from years as an ice cube that becoming Stark’s boy toy is not totally necessary,” Clint agreed.

“Really?” Tony asked the room at large, leaning back to splay his arms across the back of the sofa, “No one’s going to comment on the play on words? Equipment? Coming? Anyone? I mean, I know we ignored Barton’s comments about testies, but really?”

If anyone had anything to say to that, they were drowned out by Thor’s happily-surprised exclamation. “Ah, yes, this is a move which I have not seen repeated since I was a young boy, learning hand-to-hand combat from my father! It is a useful move, for when your opponent is larger and stronger than you.” He turned to Steve, who had raised his fists to his throat in alarm. “Come, my friend, and help me demonstrate the might of this move!”

Instantly, Steve’s face went bright red and he stuttered, scrambling backward on the couch while simultaneously trying to keep the afghan in place. “It’s not…I’m… it… not a good time--” Until Thor reached forward and pulled the blanket free, revealing a mostly-naked Captain America in a pair of whitey-tighties, and a nude Tony who was still lounging obscenely beside him.

“You know,” Clint commented as Bruce suddenly remembered an experiment he’d left on the Bunsen burner and rapidly exited the room, “I’d always imagined Stark’s boyfriends to wear silk underwear. Or Egyptian leather thongs.”

Tony snorted. “Shows how much you know.” Beside him, Steve pawed ineffectually for the afghan while holding a couch cushion between Tony and the rest of the room. Tony wasn’t sure why he bothered; there were more naked videos of him on the web than most porn stars managed to put out throughout their careers. His flesh in real-time was nothing new. 

“Let me guess; you prefer commando.”

“Bingo.” 

After a moment, Thor’s eyes lit up. “My friends, I had no idea you were engaging in such activities.” His hands went instantly to the hem of his shirt, and Tony’s mind abruptly went offline at the idea that Thor wanted to join in for a threesome. “Then we shall do this as men! Steven, you and I shall finally answer the unanswerable; is the Son of Odin truly stronger than the might of the minds of Midgard?”

“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is true alliteration,” Clint announced as Thor tossed his shirt over his shoulder and started in on his pants, Steve started stuttering again, and Tony realized that he was about to watch what would probably end up being the least-sexy, most violent naked encounter he’d actually ever witnessed. 

“Well that’s… Greek,” Between Loki’s need to divide and conquer, and Thor’s apparent love of naked wrestling, Tony was starting to see a theme. He also wasn’t sure he wanted to object. On one hand, a naked Steve wrestling anyone was an appealing sight. And Thor wasn’t too horrible to look at, either. But then again, he had to work with Thor, and Jane might be the jealous type or something, and Jarvis was recording everything and Tony’d learned the hard way that naked wrestling videos with him in the back ground tended to end up on YouTube far too frequently--

Luckily, the alarm went off before Thor had managed to remove too much of his armor. “Assemble!” Steve shouted with far more relief than a possible attack on the world should ever incur.


	2. Not all Evenings can be Dedicated to Science

“New equipment testing procedures are a go!” Tony announced, waltzing into Steve’s bedroom. 

Steve glanced up at Tony from where he was currently wrangling one of his socks off of an abnormally large foot. His eyes slid down slowly to the pair of metal figure-eights currently lofted above his head. One eyebrow lifted. “Really, Tony? Isn’t that a little… easy?”

So far they’d tried police style cuffs, a modification on the Darby style cuffs, a style similar to the olden time shackles, Dutch handcuffs, a version of twist-tie cuffs, and Tony’s personal favorite, finger-traps. So far, none of them had lasted much more than five minutes (the finger trap hadn’t even lasted that long, but to be fair, he also hadn’t augmented them. They’d been fresh, right out of the plastic wrap. But it’d been worth it to see the confusion on Steve face, and if the image of Steve’s abnormally large fingers disappearing into colorful plastic had been a bit of a turn on… well, it wasn’t the strangest thing that had caused that particular reaction). 

But figure eights… these were gorgeous. You had to be a little flexible to accommodate them to begin with. Which Steve was. Outrageously so. Blessedly so. Plus, the thick metal had always looked good on models-- it’d look better even on him.

“Don’t worry, I worked on them a little bit. New heating method. Different type of metal.” Tony tossed the cuffs onto the bed. They skittered along the bedspread and bounced gently against Steve’s thigh. “Lots of complicated, technical jargon that you wouldn’t understand is really being said here, but I figure it’ll just waste time and you won’t really care if I skip it anyway.” He brushed his fingers brushed over the crack in the headboard from where Tony had chained Steve to the bed frame the week before, hands bound above his head, and fucked into him. He’d ground slowly, deeply, until Steve had lost control and ripped half of the headboard away from the mattress and links of chain had gone flying about the room. 

Steve fingered the cuffs thoughtfully for a moment. “Am I supposed to start with my clothes on or off? This doesn’t allow for a whole lot of wiggle room.”

Tony grinned, and pulled the chair away from Steve’s desk. It was a high-backed, solid oak chair, with armrests about the width of Steve’s forearms and legs that had probably been fashioned out of a small sapling. Each. Tony had picked it out-- had actually picked out everything in each of their rooms-- based entirely off of how old and solid it had appeared (he’d pinned a note on the desk, commending it for being made like they used to, sturdy and strong, and able to walk uphill both ways). “I have a few ideas.”

~~~

“This seems… a lot less sexy now.” 

It had taken them way too long to get Steve’s arms threaded through the slats of the chair. The figure eights held his forearms pinned together, the backs of his hands brushing against each other below the thick band of metal separating the fine bones of his wrists. 

“What?” Tony had loosened the top couple of buttons and the arc reactor shone brightly from the cowl of his maroon shirt. “Shoulders hurt or anything?”

Steve shook his head and rolled his shoulders up and back a few times, feeling the admittedly limited range of motion. “No, it’s just… a lot of prep time. 

“Good things come to those who wait.” Tony cracked his knuckles and enjoyed the sight in front of him. Steve, still fully dressed with his hands bound was an appetizing sight. “C’mon, relax,” Tony purred and swung his leg across Steve’s thighs. Lowering himself down and hooking his legs around the back of the chair. His knees rattled painfully against the wooden arms and his nose wrinkled in distaste. “Ouch. Alright, so maybe it’s a little bit awkward but it’s still going to be fun.” He leaned forward and ran his hands up Steve’s sides suggestively, dancing his fingers against firm muscles and smooth skin--

\--and was nearly unseated when Steve let out a short bark of laughter, legs jumping beneath him. Tony jolted to the side, grabbing onto Steve’s pinioned arms out of reflex. “What the fuck,” He asked, leaning back again and studying Steve’s suspiciously red face. “Are you ticklish?”

Steve shook his head almost frantically, and if Tony had been an onlooker, rather than an active participant, he might have felt sorry for him. Instead, the vein of pure joy ratcheted itself another notch higher. “No! No, it just startled--”

Captain America, Super Soldier, man of legend, muscles and the American dream, and he was ticklish. And attempting to lie quite badly. “Oh, God you are!”

There weren’t enough word to express how wonderful this really was. As in Tony had done something great in a past life and this was his reward. And he’d once thought Stark Tower was Christmas. Experimentally, he flicked his fingers against Steve’s abdomen and got another squirm and a high-pitched, non-heroic eep. He tried to squirm backwards, legs pushing the chair across the floor in jagged, awkward skids. “Tony! No, wait, Tony that’s--” another eep, and something that sounded like a mix between Steve’s normal laugh and a small dog was torn from his throat. 

Tony pressed his advantage and kept going. He scritched his fingers deep into Steve’s gut, wormed his nails across the sensitive skin at his neck and ears, and gently pinched at the flesh along his ribs. He held on as Steve bucked and twisted beneath him, and laughed himself as Steve went from staved off, awkward sounding giggles to a full belly laugh. The sound was intoxicating, mesmerizing, and he found himself pushing further and further forward until Steve’s thighs parted beneath his ass and the ground rushed up to meet him.

There was a scream of metal tearing back upon itself, and Tony found himself hovering a few inches above the plush carpet of Steve’s room, ass just barely brushing soft nylon fibers. Steve’s face was inches from his own, his hands under his armpits as he kept Tony from completely falling onto the floor. “Are you alright?” Steve asked, his face still pink.

Only Steve would ask the man who’d just tormented him with giggles if he was alright. Tony laughed and let his head fall forward onto Steve’s shoulder. The cuffs hung off Steve’s left wrist, scarred almost white where they’d finally been forced apart from each other. “You make it through being tickled, but you keep me from falling on the carpet. Which wouldn’t have hurt, by the way, it’s practically the softest carpet ever. You could throw a small child face first on this carpet and they’d just laugh.”

Steve murmured something non-committal and drew him up onto his lap. Their groins slid together, and Tony let out a satisfied sigh of approval. “You’re hopeless,” he said affectionately, his breath tickling against Tony’s neck. “You should know better than to tickle people like that.”

Tony shivered. “Yeah, must have missed that day of kindergarten, Cap.” He stretched his chin toward the ceiling, and sighed as Steve nosed against it, lips nibbling and suckling. “I’m just a bad boy like that.”

Steve hummed, lips vibrating and Tony tipped his head back even further. “You really are a bad boy,” he mocked him, and gently swatted at his thigh. It didn’t even sting, and briefly Tony wondered how much finagling he’d have to do to get Steve to do it again. 

“Bad boys deserve to be punished,” he whispered, feeling like there wasn’t enough air in the rooms. His lungs felt tight, his heart like it was trying to push the arc reactor out of his chest, and he was wearing way too much clothes, why was he still dressed?

Steve’s hands caressed against him, sweeping and soothing warm skin while his mouth traced endearments into Tony’s neck. “Do you? Do you deserve,” and he bit down on Tony’s clavicle, while firmly keeping Tony’s hips from snapping up against his torso, “to be punished?”

“Oh, fuck yes,” he breathed out, mind racing. He could imagine all sorts of scenarios, could see Steve fulfilling this little fantasy in so many different ways, tying him up, forcing him to suck him off, plugging him up, bringing him to the edge and not allowing him any release, spanking, gagging, choking or begging or humiliation or--

Steve laughed, dark and low and intimate and Tony pushed up into his space a little bit more. “What, like you’ve never imagined it?” he ground up against Steve, his cock hard and hot and even that little bit of friction had him gasping. “Never imagined taking me to task for all this, for punishing me when I’m bad or ordering me around? Tying me up like I do to you?”

Steve pushed him away just slightly and for a moment Tony panicked, worried he’d offended him somehow. But then Steve stood, was lifting him off his lap and setting Tony on his feet and he swayed slightly. “Fair warning, Cap, there’s not a whole lot of blood going to my legs right now.” He leaned heavily against Steve, feeling large hands wrap around his biceps with a ridiculous amount of ease. 

“That’s unfortunate. Because I think I want to take you up on that offer.” Tony shuddered and tried to think back on everything he’d said. He wasn’t sure what he’d actually said or what he’d thought. 

Steve brushed his lips against his ear. “I want you to go down to your workshop. I want you to get another pair of handcuffs and bring them up here. And when you get back, I want you kneeling on the bed, hands behind your back, ready to suck me. And if you prove that you can be a good boy,” a finger slid it’s way down Tony’s spine, tracing over denim to toy at his ass, “if you can prove to me that you deserve it, then I’ll fuck you, hard and fast, until you come. And you’ll come on your own, without me touching you, or your own hand touching you, or you won’t come at all.” Blue eyes stare down into his own, and for a moment Tony isn’t sure he could tell what his own name was. “Is that clear?”

There’s a niggling of doubt hidden in words of steel, just enough for Tony to realize that Steve needed to know this was alright. He grinned, bright and sharp and full of want, stretched up on his toes and kissed him, licking filthily into Steve’s mouth and pushing against him His erection went into the hard curve of Steve’s side and they both inhaled sharply. “Yes, sir,” Tony said when he pulled back and it was worth it for the way that the blue in Steve’s eyes were dominated by black pupil. 

Steve kissed him hard, then turned him toward the door. “Off with you, then.”

Tony scrambled for the door, then bolted down the hallway to the elevator that led to his workshop. Avengers Tower was deserted, for which he was grateful. He lived with master spies and he did not need them deducing what sort of depravity he got up to in his spare time. They had probably already figured out way too much about his professional life. Of course, as he was currently screwing Captain America, one could say he wasn’t doing too great a job of keeping the personal away from the professional. But one could also say things like Natasha was a warm-hearted loving friend and Thor ate small, furry, cute animals and neither would be terribly far from the truth.

The door pinged open and he stepped out into his workshop. He had left them somewhere, knew that they’d be located under some blueprint or patent or take-out menu but he wasn’t entirely certain--

“Sir? On the worktable between the Bentley carburetor and string of Christmas lights.”

Tony swore in triumph and grabbed the spare pair of figure eights before launching himself back toward the elevator. “I’m doubling your pay, Jarvis.” 

The computer sighed at him. “I admit that I’m looking forward to having twice as much of the nothing that I‘m accustomed to receiving.”

“Always complaining,” Tony muttered. He was throbbing still, wanted nothing more than to strip off his pants and chuck them across the elevator, but knew that all that would accomplish would be Steve stopping this fun game and coming to pick up after him. Besides, he hadn’t been given permission to strip yet, and Tony wanted to be ordered to remove his clothes slowly, to make it good, or maybe he wanted to be forcibly stripped. Whichever. He wasn’t picky or anything. “We need to get you laid.”

“Oh yes, please find me a pretty young tablet. Then we can have matching diseases.”

“There’s a virus with your name on it out there somewhere, Jarvis,” Tony threatened as the door pinged open and he flew back down the hallway. He wasn’t sure if Jarvis chose not to respond or if it was simply lost in the roar of blood leaving his head as he opened the door to the bedroom and found Steve shirtless, standing at the foot of the bed, his dick a hard line hidden away beneath denim. 

Steve smiled at him, bright and awkward and slightly flushed before falling back into character and gesturing to the bed with his chin. Tony grinned back, unable to stop the flutter of excitement from showing on his face, and scrambled up onto the bed. He knelt in the middle of the mattress, turned so he was facing the wall, and held his hands out behind himself toward Steve. He wanted those large hands to lock him in. He felt poised and tense, expectant and eager all at once. 

Steve clasped the figure eights and stepped back.Tony moved around, awkward, his balance gone. His shoulders pulled back, just at the edge of discomfort, but it was worth it all for the dark expression of lust on Steve's face. He felt gangly, ungraceful, and it was ridiculously hot. Steve unzipped himself and gestured, and he fell forward, sprawled forward on his belly so he could get his mouth around Steve’s cock, salty and clean and smelling of Ivory soap and musk. He ground against the bed, humped into the mattress.

“Ah, ah, that’s not in the rules.”

Tony felt himself being flipped over, the friction vanishing from his erection as Steve manhandled him onto his back. His head fell off the edge of the bed, throat long and bare, and Steve was easing himself back inside Tony’s mouth, going straight down his windpipe with ease. Tony hummed around the thick girth and worked his tongue. He felt his dick jump with every appreciative mutter and curse. His head pounded, his chest burned with lack of air, his shoulders ached, and it was amazing. 

He felt Steve began to throb in his mouth, felt the precome grow thick and salty-sweet as it flowed down his throat, and realized Steve was close. He doubled his efforts, swallowed around Steve’s cock and then he was coming, flooding his mouth and airways and Tony was so close, he was almost there-

A hand fell to the outside of his jeans, rubbing hard against his trapped erection and Tony was gone, coming in his pants like a teenager. He moaned around Steve’s cock, back arching off the bed, muscles nearly cramping with how intense it all was, and then Steve was easing back out of his mouth, and still rubbing against him. Tony whimpered, eyes clenched shut.

Steve gentled him. “Maybe this is your punishment,” he whispered, caressing the hair off Tony’s forehead with his spare hand. “Maybe I’ll just keep petting, keep rubbing, Stroke you from one orgasm to another, keep touching you until you cry with how good it feels, with how sensitive you’ve become. Make if so intense that you’ll forget your own name.” Tony shuddered.

Finally, Steve released him and turned him over gently. He undid the latch on the figure eights and rubbed Tony’s hands, kissed each knuckle and sucked his fingers past full lips. Tony watched with eyes half-lidded. He felt relaxed, at ease and de-stressed, and simply went with it as Steve stripped his sticky clothes off of him and stretched him out on the bed. Tony pillowed his head against Steve’s shoulder and sighed. 

“I haven’t come in my pants since I first discovered porn,” he said into the warmth of Steve’s shoulder. 

Steve chucked, bouncing Tony’s head up and down. “I think we stepped away from your experiment,” he said. “I thought I was supposed to wear the handcuffs, not you.”

Tony shrugged. They had plenty of time left. He still hadn’t gotten the formula right, after all. “We’ll cuff you to something tomorrow night. It’ll be fun.” He yawned. Maybe he’d try fashioning a set of mittens next time. He’d bind Steve’s hands in front of him, tease and toy with him until he either ripped his hands free or exploded. “I’m adaptable-- after all, not every night can be about scientific discovery. Sometimes you just have to have some fun.”

Tony could feel Steve’s breath against his scalp as he laughed. He grinned into Steve’s chest and wiggled until he was comfortable, eyes sliding shut as Jarvis turned the lights down without a word.

**Author's Note:**

> I now have so much admiration for anyone who can write Thor and not make him sound stilted. Because this? Totally stilted. And I apologize, but there it is.
> 
> On recall, the Egyptian leather thong may or may not have been inspired from a Tanya Huff novel.


End file.
